The Darkest December (Jack Frost x Reader)
by HermioneFrost
Summary: Pitch has returned, and this time he has help. With this new threat, the Guardians turn to a special human girl for help. Will she be able to stop Pitch, or will she end up causing more harm than help? (Originally posted on DeviantART: /art/The-Darkest-December-Chapter-1-JackFrostxReader-403006635 )
1. Chapter 1

The demon soars in the shadows of the charcoal sky. Her crimson eyes dart back and forth, striving not to lose the Fearling in the sinister midnight. Bloodstained wings effortlessly slit the brisk fog, stealing November's final breath. The pursuit continues beneath the vigilant moonlight as the frigid breeze fortifies. Suddenly, the Fearling swiftly dives into the woods below. She abruptly descends, emerging herself into the forest of silhouettes. She maneuvers through the trees as if she had done it a hundred times, though the territory is alien to her.

Left. Right. Right. Up. Left. Right. Down. Left. Mind numb from routine flight, she trifles with her luck and bolts closer to the shadow. Her wings flutter rapidly, tolerating a few inferior nicks and cuts from twigs and leaves. She follows the creature for a few more minutes until it approaches a desolate vicinity imprisoned by towering timbers. The Fearling slips into a dark hole in the ground. The demon's wings come to a halt, receding into her slender spine, and the silky roots of her dress brush against the frozen soil. She strides towards the abyss, noticing the abandoned wooden boards on the soil consuming themselves in their own decay like a long-forgotten dream withering away into nothing. Strands of hazy fog slither through the forest and ring around her like a constrictor. Her undaunted breath clamors in the ominous silence. Remembering the task at hand, she swiftly enters the cryptic void.

She lands on the cold, stiff ground with a dull thud. Darkness subdues the pit and murders any sense of direction. She raises her gaunt hand, expecting it to materialize in her vision, but there is only obscured blackness. The air is musty and damp. Low, morbid whispers echo around her. She reaches down to the hem of her sleek skirt and cautiously draws her fatal blade, carefully moving in a watchful circle. Without warning, an icy chill roams down her spine, making the hairs on her neck stand on edge. She impulsively turns to make an attack but finds nothing but the lonesome dimness. Mystified, she succumbs to the black nothing.

"Hello, Leila," a deep, velvety voice hisses into her ear.

Her body tenses and she remains immobile. Slowly, she gravely grins to herself and conceals her dagger as she realizes who is lurking behind her. " 'Ello, Peetch. Eet's been a while."

Pitch glides to the side and transforms from a ghostly shadow to the Nightmare King. "Yes," he says, staring into nowhere. "Almost 2,000 years, I believe, near the end of the Dark Ages." He fondly cups his hands behind his back and his gold and silver eyes find themselves gazing at Leila's ashen ruby orbs. She holds a fearless posture, though his eyes penetrate her soul with an alluring trance and a forlorn heartache.

"Zuch a long time, 2,000 years." The words barely falter out of her mouth.

He hesitates, attempting to determine the right phrase to replace the years of anguish. "I'm sure you've heard stories of my whereabouts. What have you been doing all this time?"

"Nozing much; making enemies, travelling een darkness." Leila dismally looks away. "You avoided me for zo long. Why contact me now?" A solitary tear drips down her pale cheek, praying not to be detected.

A leaden sigh escapes Pitch's lips. "Because I need you."

Her attention is back on him. "You need me? I zought you vere, 'ow you say, too powehrful and deed not need anyone."

"Well, I was wrong," he confesses ruefully. "I do need help, and you're the only one who can help me. Seven years ago, I tried to take over the world with fear and darkness; to get people to believe in me once again. I almost did it. I had killed Sandy. The Guardians were at their weakest. Every child but one stopped believing in them. But that one child and the newest Guardian, Jack Frost, were all it took to get children to believe again. Sandy came back and I became invisible once more. My own Nightmares dragged me down into my lair, attacking me, showing no mercy to their creator. It's taken me this long to build up my strength and develop a plan, and now that I'm ready, I need your assistance."

"Oh, I zee. You know zat revehnge ees my ayxpehrtise and you vant to use me to your advanteege. Well, I won't do eet. You vill need much more zan chahrm to conveence me, Peetch. You treecked me once, eet will not 'appen again." She turns to desert the enigmatic lair. Her feathery appendages sprout from her vertebrae, set for take off, when a shaded, narrow hand seizes her exposed shoulder, tempting goosebumps to settle on her gentle skin.

"Leila, I know I hurt you in the past. I was stupid and I was wrong. I don't deserve your forgiveness. But, please, let me try to make it up to you. Let me try to fix what I did. Please."

She pivots and meets his eclipsing eyes that mourn with sincere nostalgia. The shadows below his orbs expose centuries of sorrow and yearning. His lips curl downward, partially ajar. She takes a deep breath. "Fine. But I promise you zees: eef you 'urt me een any way, you vill regret eet." He nods respectfully. "Now, what ees your veecked plan zees time?"

Pitch's expression changes to a tender smile that is instantly morphed into a vile one. "Do you know of the New Year Moon?"

"Peetch, I'm not an eediot."

"Right. My apologies. Anyway, on that night, the Guardians will all be focused on helping Sandy and the Man in the Moon with the dreams. None of their attention will be on protection; they still think I'm no longer a threat. The Moon Clipper, the Man in the Moon's ship, will be the closest to Earth during this time. So, if we take control of the Moon Clipper-"

"We take over ze dreams and turn zem into nightmares..." she deciphers.

"Thus defeating the Guardians and plunging the world into a second Dark Age," he ends with a smirk.

"Zo, why zend a Fearling to bring me to you vhen you could 'ave gotten me yourself?" She crosses her arms and awaits his response.

He looks at her with a ludicrous expression. "Really? I thought you would've figured it out. I'm slightly disappointed in you, Leila." He twists around, wandering further into the strange chasm.

Leila extends her arm to abstain his departure, but her diligent fingers barely evade Pitch's neck, slightly brushing the collar of his silken robe. Her body stutters, hesitant between pause and pursuit. Her arm subsides to her hip. He is nearly invisible now, masked by the shadowy tunnel. She speculates the possibilities hastily. When the explanation comes to her, she flies into the darkness. "You deed not want ze Man een ze Moon to know of your return, no? You vere, 'ow you say, staying out of ze limelight?"

An enticing chuckle rings in her ears as numerous shadows of the Boogeyman encircle her. "Well done, although you're missing a key part." The shadows accumulate and Pitch arises. "Have you noticed anything different about the location of the moon beams lately?"

"Why would I pay attention to zat?"

"Ah, but you should always pay attention to everything. The smallest detail can be your enemy's downfall." He strides behind her, tenderly placing his hands on her shoulders. "I have been observing the patterns of the moon beams for the past few months, and what I've come to find is that they have been lingering in one specific area in Burgess. I think that the Man in the Moon has been watching over someone, someone of some importance to him."

She gives him a quizzical look. "You mean to say you are paranoid about a leetle ayxtra _light?_"

"With good reason. The Fearling I sent to escort you had another task - to find out who the Moon is after." Promptly, the Fearling swoops to Pitch's side. It elevates to his face, sending coarse whispers into his ear, and whisks away into the blackness. "Ah," he simpers. "It seems as though our lunar friend is seeking a young girl, and one with power, too."

"What? Why? Does 'e know of your plans?"

He looks down into her flaming eyes. "I don't know, but one thing's for certain: We need to find this girl and dispose of any threat she brings to us. As far as we know, she hasn't chosen a side yet. She is still a neutral party, and I'm not going to ignore this one."


	2. Chapter 2

"Sorry I'm late," Jack murmurs without any genuine concern, landing his bare feet in the fresh polar fluff. "I was in the middle of this awesome snowball fight with these kids in Ontario and-"

"Save it, Frostbite." Bunny rolls his eyes at the tardy spirit. "Ya may be the Gahdian of Fun, but ya still have responsibilities."

Jack puts on a childish pout, giving Bunny the evil eye, which is returned instantaneously. He proceeds to survey the wintry environment. His cerulean eyes glisten in the albino wonderland and flakes of snow breeze through the strands of his silvery hair. Glancing upward, he finds the familiar iced towers and turrets of the imperious domicile, greeting him with a warm, subduing authority. Wispy waves of minty borealis sweep the powdered mountainous coast in an incessant tide. Beneath the hued current floats Tooth, precariously massaging inept heat into the galvanized skin under her quivering feathers.

"Jack, can you do _anything_ about this cold?!" she pleads through flawless chattering teeth. The tips of her raspberry tinted wings are coated in piercing crystals.

He shrugs with a remorseful smile. "Believe me, I would if I could. I can only make it colder."

"Manny shoulda recruited the summer spirit," Bunny interjects.

"Hey!" retorts Jack. "It isn't that bad. See, Sandy doesn't mind it," he adds, directing his frosted staff towards the Guardian. However, the Sandman is oblivious to the conversation, as he is entranced in slumber on a dreamsand bed. Grainy Z's hover above his golden tufts of hair like dizzy butterflies, lost in a blizzard of topsy-turvy snow and sparkling imagination.

Bunny snickers sarcastically. "He may not mind it, but ya still not off the hook, mate. We've been waiting out here for almost an hour." He cuddles himself, paws paralyzed from the chill. "Ya may think ya have more important things ta do, but when the signal goes off, ya absolutely gotta be here on ti-"

Without warning, the grand doors burst open, nearly shoving the Pooka off the cliff. Jack lets out a resounding laugh, causing the dreamsand bed to vanish and Sandy to awaken in a pile of snow. Tooth hardly even flinches due to her preoccupation with finding the slightest iota of warmth on the Pole. Two massive yetis are stationed firmly in the entryway like knights guarding a castle. Both still have one furry arm thrust upon the walnut gate. The beige one turns to Jack. "Gerwahberlabemf," he grumbles, gesturing towards the interior of the workshop. Jack's dark eyebrows crease quizzically and he leaps over to where Bunny lies, frozen and fractious in a mundane snowbank.

"Do you know what he's saying?" he queries, trying to withhold leftover giggles.

"Of course I do, ya gumby." He bounds out of the white mound, sending chunks of bitter snow skyward. "He's telling us ta come inside. I thought ya woulda picked up at least some of their language by now, but I guess not," he continues, gently sweeping the remaining snowflakes off of his frigid fur. In a feathery flash, Tooth bolts through the entrance, practically shoving the yetis into the sturdy doors and knocking Bunny back onto the cold ground. Jack erupts into another fit of laughter and extends his pale hand. Bunny's ears steam like a locomotive as he accepts the offer resentfully, the dusty fur around his cheeks morphing into an inflamed burgundy.

"I coulda gotten up myself," he states, pushing Jack's hand away once he is upright.

"Whatever you say, Kangaroo."

Jack strides past the pair of Yetis and into the workshop. Bunny glances to his right to find Sandy beaming at him with a wide, silly grin. He shakes off his embarrassment and hops into the noble palace, the Sandman succeeding without a sound.

The four Guardians are escorted by the pepper- and sand-colored Yetis down hall after hall of magnificent dark oak and mahogany archways. Dim amber candlelight careens off the wooden walls. The bustling of busy Yetis echos through the hallways, amplifying with every turn. A few roaming elves meander here and there, carrying the sugary aroma of freshly baked gingersnaps along. The foursome continues to down the corridor, the pair of Yetis foremost. After rounding several more corners, the group halts in front of an imposing door. "Abgekfosnrtmaz," the ashen Yeti declares, and he and his companion exit the vicinity. Tooth, Bunny, and Sandy nod and take a seat on a wooden bench. Jack is left staring in total discombobulation at the door's compass-shaped designs.

"He said to wait here for North," explains Tooth, patting her dainty hand on the vacant spot beside her.

Promptly, he plops down on the polished bench. He positions his staff against the lumber wall and looks at his fellow Guardians. "So, any of you guys know exactly _why_ we're here?" he inquires. Sandy shakes his head, a twinkling question mark formulating over his head. Tooth shrugs soundlessly.

"Whateva it is, it betta be important," asserts Bunny. "I had ta leave in the middle of training some new warrior eggs, and that can't be intahrupted."

Tooth perks up. "No kidding! I've been swamped with children losing teeth. I couldn't bring any of my fairies with me because of how busy we've been. Not even Baby Tooth!" Jack tilts his head, belatedly noticing the absence of high-pitched chirping and miniature wings fluttering about. "If this is another one of North's tests to see if the signal still works," she proceeds, "I'm going to give him a piece of my mind."

"Hopefully it isn't one of those 'I feel it in my belly' moments," Jack fusses, standing up and giving his best "North" impersonation, hand gestures and Russian accent included.

Bunny snickers. "Naw, mate. I think most of the time it's indigestion from all of those cookies he eats." Tooth lets out a lively giggle, her wings shaking with playfulness. Sandy beams with a silent chuckle. He displays a scene of an elf collapsing on a dial.

Jack snorts. "Ha, you said it, Sandy. We'll all be pretty mad if Jangle just fell on the button again."

All of the sudden, the immense maple door swings open. The cheerful laughter ceases, immediately replaced by a tense, mystifying sensation, enlarged eyes, and gaping jaws. There is a man standing in the entryway in front of North. He is small and plump, measuring about half a foot taller than the Sandman and some degree wider. He dawns a champagne-yellow suit and a loose, silky cloak to match. His shoes are dwarfed by his body, tiny and glossy black. Under his square jawline lies a cherry red bow tie. In his left hand he holds a golden scepter with circles and swirls flowing upward, where a slender crescent moon perches. He has kind eyes and a single strand of hair that spirals above his glazed, bald head. The Guardians are petrified with awe, for there, right in front of them, is the man who watches over all children. The man who gave the Guardians their titles to begin with.

It is the Man in the Moon.


	3. Chapter 3

"M-Manny," gasps Tooth. "W-What are you doing here?"

The stout man attempts to put on a friendly smile, but it appears more disheartening than affectionate. He acknowledges North, settled abaft with the same dismal countenance. North indicates his palm towards the train room behind him.

"Come. Ve have some explehning to do."

The Guardians plod into the icy train room. The morning's blinding glow extinguishes the tiny, trembling flares of a couple dozen caramel-colored candles. At least a dozen more are balanced on the rafters made of assorted walnut tones. An aroma of hot wax and stale fruitcake drifts around shelves stocked with this and that. Hefty encyclopedias of naughty and nice children. A small-scale barn hand-painted maroon. A miniature dinosaur skeleton with a cheery Raggedy Ann doll upon its backside. On the table to the left lies a train crafted of ice resting on a roller coaster track in a crystal metropolis. Spare frozen architectures are stowed on the rack in front of the broad windows. Bunny bounces over to the stone fireplace, wrestling with Tooth to decide who acquires warmth. Sandy forges a dreamsand armchair, while Jack sits himself down on a glacier chunk the size of a bowling ball. Manny and North stand between the slick wall and a model of Big Ben made entirely of ice. The Man in the Moon steps forward, clearing his throat.

"My fellow Guardians," he announces with a gentle voice full of sage, "as you are well aware, it is our job to protect the children of the world. We must stop at nothing to keep them safe from harm." He pauses, releasing a deep sigh. "It is with great sorrow that I inform you that Pitch Black has returned once more."

Immediately, the room erupts in a chorus of "WHAT?!" coming from everyone except Manny and North.

"Manny," Tooth chokes, "a-are you sure? How could this be possible?"

"It can't be true, mate," Bunny intrudes. "We made sure that Pitch was defeated. There's no way he's back. He can't be!"

The Man in the Moon's head lowers. "I wish I could say that, Aster, but alas, what I said is absolute. Our greatest enemy has decided to strike back once more."

Jack leaps down from the chunk of ice, leisurely propping himself up with his staff. "I don't want to barge into this drama, but what's the big deal? Seriously! We beat him before, we can beat him again!"

"It is not so simple, Jack," urges North. "First time took Pitch 2,000 years to recover. Zis time took only seven. Ve barely beat him last time. He's getting stronger every day. And zis time, he's seeking help."

"W-wait a minute," Bunny stammers. "Whataya mean he's got help?"

"Leila Revanche." Manny raises his head slightly, despair drowning in his dark coffee eyes. Sandy, who had been listening solemnly the whole time, springs up and hovers over to Manny, a whirlwind of dreamsand images scuttling chaotically over his head. North masages his aching temple. Bunny releases an aggravated "Crikey," and leans back on a table, where Tooth is in the process of reviving herself from falling faint.

Jack examines the disarray before him, a look of total confusion set upon his face. "Who's Leila Revanche?"

Manny directs his woeful focus to the Guardian of Fun. "Leila is a demon, specializing in the art of Revenge. She came into existence during the Dark Ages. She was extremely dangerous, yielding immense power. When I brought together the Guardians for the first time, she was allied with Pitch. I was able to get her on our side long enough to win the battle, but she left immediately after. For the past 2,000 years she has been independently spreading vengeance throughout the world. It was never enough to catch my attention. But now, she has realigned herself with Pitch, and I'm sure that is where she will stay."

"It took five of us to defeat Pitch," adds North. "Vith someone like her, ve are no match for both of zem."

The Sandman walks over to Manny, drifting an image of a golden moon along.

"Yes, Sanderson, we are all well aware of the upcoming New Year Moon, as well."

Jack raises his hand like a little, lost schoolboy. "Um, I'm not."

Bunny groans. "Ugh. Are ya really such a bloody drongo, mate? Or do ya just like the attention?"

"Bunny!" Tooth chastises. "It's not our fault he's only been with us for seven years. Cut him some slack." The arrogant Pooka crosses his fuzzy arms in annoyance.

"The New Year Moon," Manny begins, "occurs every New Year's Eve. It is a tradition started long ago when I first made acquaintance with Father Time. We agreed that our vow to watch over the hopes and dreams of children shouldn't be limited to just them. It should include the remainder of humanity as well, meaning adults. Of course, this requires a considerable magnitude of power and concentration. When push came to shove, we recognized that it would be practical to have this take place on only one night. Our choice was simple. What better night for dreams and wishes than New Year's Eve?

"In the final hours of every year, I fly my ship, the Moon Clipper, as close to Earth as I can manage. The distance varies every year by virtue of minor malfunctions, though it is never anything my Lunar Lamas can't repair. I send a pair of Lunar Moths down to retrieve Sanderson, as he is the Guardian of Dreams. Once on the Moon Clipper, we work together to spread dreams, clarity, and new hopes to everyone on Earth."

Jack nods slowly, digesting this new knowledge and, before long, he is furrowing his eyebrows and uplifting his palm once more.

"You do not need to raise your hand, Mr. Overland," Manny says with a smile, "though I do appreciate the consideration."

"Oh, right. Eh, I was just wondering what this has to do with Pitch?" Seeing Bunny inhale, Tooth swats his soft shoulder with a rather forceful wallop, preventing an anticipated insult.

The Man in the Moon's posture droops with a sigh. "New Year's Eve is thirty days away. With the amount of power the New Year Moon demands, all of my concentration and energy is focused on it, as is Sanderson's. During the time it takes to prepare for this event, I am distracted from protecting myself, yourselves, and the children. North is preoccupied with Christmas, so that leaves only three Guardians to watch over every child in the world. If that isn't an opportunity for fear to rise, then I don't know what is."

The winter spirit bites his lip, still lacking in complete comprehension. "Then, why don't we just cancel the New Year Moon this year?"

"Vat?!" cries North. "Ve can't cancel New Year Moon! Vould you cancel Vinter?"

"What? No!"

"And vould you cancel Christmas?"

"No, but-"

"And vat about Easter?"

"Well, that I might cancel..."

North ignores Jack's last comment and Bunny's growling. "Point is zis: every Guardian has special holiday or season. Each represents somezing; has a 'center', if you vill. Zey create more hope, wonder, dreams, fun, and memories zan ve ever could. Zey are just as important as children, and zey need protecting, too. Cancelling New Year Moon vould be like getting rid of Manny entirely."

Jack sits back down on the ice chunk, elevating his knee to place his elbow there. "So, if we can't cancel the New Year Moon, then what are we going to do?"

Manny hesitates, glancing from the Guardians to the blizzard outside. "Well," he explains, clearing his throat, "there is one person who might be able to assist us."

"Really?" Tooth cheers. "Who? Is it the Leprechaun?"

"Why do ya always assume it's the Leprechaun?" Bunny fusses. Sandy creates a dreamsand groundhog with a mute chuckle. "Not funny, mate."

Despite the severity of the event, Manny finds himself giggling at the perpetual bickering. However, his laughter is shortly replaced by a skeptical glower. "She is neither immortal nor a creature. She is a human."

"A human?!" shouts Bunny. "Ya can't be serious, mate!" The astute apology in Manny's eyes show that what he said is true. "Ah, crikey."

Tooth's face lightens with curiosity. "Who is she?"

North clutches a weighty book titled "Nice: Volume III" from the highest walnut shelf and places it on a table with a strong_thud_. He licks his index finger and starts flipping through pages in a flash. He unexpectedly pauses on a page with a young girl of about seventeen years of age. She has (hair length and color) hair, reaching just to her (place where hair ends). She has a friendly smile and (eye color) eyes. North grins, remembering her past Christmases. "Her name is (your name)."

"What's so special about her?" Jack snickers.

The Man in the Moon turns to face the Guardian. "Do not be so quick to judge her, Mr. Overland. She may not look it, but I sense that this girl has a great power inside her, stronger than any I've seen before."

"Well, what is it?"

He gives Jack a reprimanding glare. "I have my suspicions, but I am not certain. We will know when she discovers it for herself, as you five had to do."

"But what will we do if she gets hurt?" Tooth inquires. "She is a human, after all."

"We must make sure that no harm comes upon her. If it does, we have no one to blame but ourselves."

Bunny steps forward. "I hate ta burst ya bubble, mate, but what if she doesn't wanna help us? I mean, isn't she entitled ta her own opinion?"

"That is what I need help with," Manny shrugs. "I need you three - Aster, Toothiana, and Mr. Overland - to meet her. Convince her to join us. If you can't, then we will have no hope of defeating Pitch Black and Leila Revanche."

"You're putting a whole lot of pressure on one human girl," Jack notes, peering back down at the picture.

"I know," Manny admits. "But what choice do I have?"


	4. Chapter 4

It is cold and empty in the halls of Burgess High School. A few random lockers are left unlatched, their contents spilling out lazily onto the dirt-caked floor. Hand-painted signs advertising year books and dances are carelessly taped to every corner. Within the walls of the classrooms there are large quantities of teenagers, fatigued and desperate to escape the educational prison. On the upper level, in the easternmost wing of the building, is where you are. Ms Hart's classroom. 7th period. Trigonometry.

She is standing there in front of the classroom, scribbling a triangle onto the blackboard with a crumbling piece of vanilla chalk. Deep purple veins protrude from her pale, wrinkled hands. She has a single piece of jewelry - a brooch in the shape of an apple - which clings to her chest at all times. It is, or rather was, painted gold. It has gone through as much wear and tear as its owner, now donning a mildew green color with specks of corroded gold glinting towards the center. Her clothes are outdated by at least a few decades. She is dressed in a rumpled amber sweater, most likely knitted by herself. A brown plaid skirt constricts her narrow waist and extends to graze the laces of her bulky clogs. She turns to the class, a million pop questions whizzing through her mind.

"What are the values of the missing angles on the triangle I just drew?" she demands. Her eyes squint through the lenses of her glasses and scan the room for any defenseless victims. She spots a lanky boy slouching in his chair, drooling in a dreamy trance. "Logan!"

The boy jolts in his chair and gawks at the teacher with wide eyes. "What?" he slurs, stretching his arms.

Ms Hart pinches her chapped lips together, looking more like the Grinch than a person. "Mr. Prior, I suggest you wipe the drool off of your chin and pay attention." She hands him a slip of paper. "You'll have plenty of time for shuteye in detention this afternoon." Logan groans and shoves the paper into his pocket.

She marches back to the blackboard and points to the triangle. "Can anybody tell me the answer to the problem?"

"You made it up. You should know it," sasses a bold girl in the second row. The girl, Scarlet, has her legs crossed and her leather boots shoved against the head of another sleeping student.

"Excuse me?!"

"You heard me, witch."

Ms Hart stomps over to the teen's desk, thin slip in hand. "Miss Davis, this is your third detention this week. One more and I_will_ be making a phone call to your parents."

Her eyes roll as she clips the paper between two fingers and twirls it around. "Pfft, like it'd matter to them."

"What did you say, Miss Davis?" She glares at the rebellious adolescent.

Scarlet puts on an exaggerated smile, making her snakebites stand on edge with her suddenly spirited voice. "Oh, nothing, Ms Hart." Her grin, if at all possible, widens and she bats her eyes at a mile a minute until the teacher turns away. She proceeds to make a rather rude gesture with her hand, quickly covering up her act by running her fingers through her jet black hair.

Ms Hart now addresses the class, teeth clenched together. "You children have a desperate need to become more mature. I have never seen a group of young ladies and gentlemen with such a lack of respect. Because you are unable to give me your attention, I am taking away your free time. Problems 1-50 on page 394 must be completed by tomorrow, no exceptions. I expect to see all of your work done on the paper. Failure to complete this assignment will result in a detention."

"Eh, what's one more detention gonna do?"

"Miss Davis! I am call-"

_DIINNGGG!_

"Sorry, Ms Hart. School's over. Can't be late for my detention!" She hops out of the room with a smirk, waving her paper slip like a victory flag.

You gather your notebook and calculator in your (favorite color) backpack and head down the stairs and out the main doors. The schoolyard is obscured with scattered leaves, each one long dead and ready to move on with the seasons. Autumn's crisp wind still lingers, but it is cut short by an early winter gale. Clusters of students stand socializing on the lawn. One boy is sitting on the concrete stair rail reading a book about Bigfoot. Yes, even at this age, he still is fascinated by myths and legends.

The boy is Jamie Bennett, and he is your best friend.

It all started 6 years ago. You had just moved to Burgess from (your hometown). You were the dreaded "new girl", destined for shame and humiliation. You entered school on the very first day, shy and alone. Your mother had put your (hair color) hair in braided pigtails just for the occasion. After all, it wasn't every day you moved to a totally different school.

The embarrassment began with your very first steps into the hallway. The principal was escorting you to class, pointing out everything as though you were a toddler. "This is the cafeteria, where we eat our lunch every day." "Oh, there's the girl's restroom, sweetie, right next to the boy's restroom. You know which one to use, right?" All you could do was nod and tell yourself that it would be over soon.

When you finally reached your classroom, she brought you to the front of the class. "This is (your name), and she is going to be joining your class. Isn't that exciting, boys and girls?" The crowd of 5th graders just stared, some faces more blank than others. The principal shook her head. "Well, Mr. Caligo, I'll let you take it from here." And with that, she left.

Mr. Caligo, oh, how you hated that man. If there was a prize for making students feel the least welcome, he'd win it hands down. As soon as the principal was gone, he stood up from his squeaky desk chair and directed you to the seat in the very front of the class. "Miss (your last name), you will be sitting here for the remainder of the year. I expect you to behave and answer questions promptly when I ask them. Take your seat." You took a step forward, oblivious to the foot blocking your path. You fell flat on your face and, naturally, the room erupted in laughter.

"Silence!" he yelled. Immediately the laughter stopped and each child froze, awaiting their next order. "To your seat, Miss (your last name)." Hastily you scrambled to your feet and sat down at your desk. "Now then, last have a little pop quiz, shall we? What is the difference between reflection and refraction? Miss (your last name)."

"W-what?" you croaked, clearly unprepared for a test.

Mr. Caligo raised his chin. "I will repeat the question. What is the difference between reflection and refraction?"

"Umm, I'm not sure," you shrugged.

He lifted his eyebrows and cleared his throat. "I see. Can you answer me this: what is the product of 6 and 8?"

"Ehh.." Slowly, you sank in your seat.

"Hmm." He folded his arms behind his back and began pacing around your desk. "I will give you one more chance, Miss (your last name)." His eyes shot daggers as he scoured his mind for difficult problems to asses his newest pupil. "Ah. Who was the president of the Confederate States during the U.S. Civil War?"

Your throat became dry and you weakly confessed, "I don't know."

Mr. Caligo chewed his lip and marched back to his desk. "Well, since there is a student who is behind in her education, we will have review for the next few days until she is caught up." The class groaned until the teacher gave an angry stare. "Don't blame me. It is my job to make sure that you all know everything you are supposed to know. I must make sure that our...less intelligent student learns what she is supposed to learn, not just 'I don't know' and 'I'm not sure'." His cold stare and harsh criticism stayed with you until lunchtime, where new terrors anticipated your arrival.

Your classmates pushed you to the back of the line right away, so your much-awaited mystery meat was more stale than three-week-old bread and just as appetizing. Every seat in the cafeteria was taken except for one lonely chair at the table by the garbage can. Seeing as you had no other choice, you picked up your tray and headed over. After a few minutes of picking at your "food" and cringing your nose in disgust, the table behind you started giggling.

"I don't know anything, sir. I'm just a stupid little baby who's going to make everyone fall behind."

You knew who they were mocking.

"Poor little me. I don't even know what 2 plus 2 is."

It was you.

"I don't even know what state I'm in. I'm too dumb to know anything."

And you did not find it humorous.

The chuckles got louder as they started to throw peas in your pigtails. You just sat there, squeezing your spork and willing yourself not to cry. "What a dumb baby I am. I'm too stupid to notice what's going on around me. Why, I bet I wouldn't even realize if milk was being poured on my head." Your stinging eyes quickly widened as you realized what they were about to do, but it was too late. A kid was already spilling a jug of milk onto your hair. The cold liquid flowed down your face and onto your clothes. Instantly, tears rolled down your cheeks and you hopped up from your chair. Another kid saw his moment of opportunity and stretched out his leg to trip you. The cafeteria burst into laughter as you fled to the girl's restroom.

You looked in the mirror and saw a girl with hot cheeks and eyes outlined in red. There was a stutter in her breath from the fresh tears. Carefully, you undid your braids and washed out the milk from your hair and clothes. There was no way you could face those kids again, not like this. You leaned against a stall and cried until you couldn't get out any more tears. Eventually, you shuffled out of the restroom and found a boy waiting outside the door.

"Hi. My name's Jamie. I'm in your class." You gave a gentle wave and a heartbroken frown. "Look, I saw what those kids did to you, and it wasn't nice at all. And I just wanted to say I'm sorry for it; for what happened to you today." He smiled lightly, offering his hand.

You looked to his outstretched hand and back to his warm smile. Cautiously, you place your palm in his. "Thank you."

From that moment on, the two of you were inseparable. He introduced you to his friends - Pippa, Cupcake, Caleb, Claude, and Monty - and they gladly welcomed you into their group. The bullying soon stopped, and you were gradually accepted as a regular student.

You tiptoe down the concrete stairs, weaving yourself between seniors and underclassmen. You scope out Jamie, his red and blue jacket tossed lazily onto the ground with his backpack. He sits cross-legged on top of the gritty stair rail. His mind is lost in a paperback world of legendary creatures, much to your advantage. You creep past gaggles of freshmen girls on their phones and reach the railing. You slide against it and work your way down, humming the James Bond theme song and stepping in time to perfect your mission. Of course, you don't forget to add in some dramatic spy poses on each step. After all, the rest of the world is too busy texting their exes or fixing their makeup. Why not have a little fun?

You climb onto the rail and crawl over to your unsuspecting friend. You cup your hands around your mouth and lean in close to his ear, taking a deep but silent breath. _3, 2, 1._ "GGRRRROOOOOAAAAAARRRRLLL!

"Gah!" Jamie pivots and loses his balance, crash landing on his backpack with his book not far behind. He rubs his temple while you nearly fall off yourself from the fit of laughter you're experiencing. "That was not funny, (your name)!"

"Yeah, it was!" you snicker.

Jamie giggles and shakes his head. "Alright, I guess it was."

You leap off the rail and reach out your hand to help him up. "Still trying to find Bigfoot?"

"You bet!"

Your eyes roll upwards and you let out a slight chuckle.

"I know you don't believe me, (your name), but trust me, he's out there. I just know it." He bends down to gather his backpack and book, wrapping his jacket around his waist and tying the sleeves at his stomach. "If you'd actually take some interest in it, you'd see that I'm not crazy."

"I don't know..." you tease.

He rolls his eyes back at you and you give him a playful punch on his sturdy arm. "Come on. We need to go home."

A brisk gust of wind nudges both of you down the pale sidewalk. It carries fragmented leaves, zigzagging past skateboards and school buses. The sun is turning gold, implying shorter days to come. You skip over the cracks on the pavement as though you were a young child again.

"You seem awfully happy."

"Is that such a crime?"

"No. I'm just not used to seeing you jump around like a 3-year-old."

You smile. "Well, maybe I'm just in a good mood today."

Jamie stares ahead. "Hey, are you free tonight?"

Your feet stop walking and you look towards your best friend. "W-what?"

"I asked if you had any plans."

"Umm, why?"

He looks at you like the answer is obvious, then, seeing your eyebrows knotted in confusion, he explains. "Remember how I told you how I was working up the courage to ask a certain girl out?"

"Yeah..." This isn't looking good for you. You and Jamie are friends. That's it. Nothing more, whatsoever.

"And how I wouldn't tell you who because I knew you'd run to them and tell them?"

"Uh huh..." _No_, you think. _Don't do it, Jamie Bennett. Don't ruin this friendship. Stop it, right now._

"Well," he sighs, "I asked out Pippa today."

You blink a few times. "You what?"

"I asked out Pippa. She's the girl that I like."

You mentally wipe the nonexistent sweat from your forehead. "Really? You like Pippa?!"

Jamie's cheeks get rosy. "Yeah."

"Oh my gosh! What did she say?" you squeal, jumping around him impatiently.

"She said yes."

"Jamie, that's so wonderful! And you're going out tonight?"

"Yup. But I have a problem. I'm supposed to be watching Sophie tonight while my mom's at a meeting."

"Say no more, I'll watch her for you."

"Really?" He leans in and gives you a half-hug. "Thanks, (your name). You're the best!"

You readjust your backpack and start walking again. "Anytime."

You spend the next few minutes conversing about his plans - where they were going, what they were doing, food, transportation, everything. Who could blame you for being curious? This is your best friend's first date, after all. After numerous questions and several sarcastic "Really" 's from Jamie, you reach your house.

"I'll tell my mom that you'll be there at 6," he calls, strolling down the sidewalk to go home. "See you then!"

You put a hand up to your mouth. "Just make sure you have everything ready for your date. I don't want to have to run through a checklist when I get there!" He smiles and walks off, leaving you at the door to your house. You slip your hand in your jeans pocket and pull out the key, turning it in the lock and pushing the door open. There is a bowl of (favorite fruit) on the counter. You casually grab one and plop yourself down on the couch. Your hand snatches the remote, prepped for its daily dosage of channel surfing, when something crosses your mind. _Aw, man. I have Trigonometry homework._


	5. Chapter 5

You stand outside of the Bennett house, fist elevated and calmly knocking on the cold door. The house is decorated for Christmas - it has been since mid-November. Jamie always gets so excited about this time of year. It's a wonder he managed to wait until then to start putting up the lights. He worked form sunrise til well past sunset for a week, untangling hopeless strands, testing each and every bulb, coiling wires around trunks and twigs. You saw him from your window many times, coming outside and offering your assistance or a hot cup of cocoa, but he rejected you each time, saying that he had make it perfect.

When the door finally opens, you see Jamie with gel-coated hair and an unsure smile.

"J-Jamie," you gasp. "Your hair!"

"Is it too much?" He bites his lip and turns to a small mirror on the wall, inspecting his hair hysterically.

"Jamie," you begin, entering the doorway, "Pippa said yes because she likes you, not because she wants you to change."

"Really?"

"Yes! Now get that goop out of your hair," you say, ruffling his sticky brown locks and wiping the gel on your pants.

As he heads towards the bathroom, Sophie runs downstairs with open arms to hug you. "(Your name)!" she squeals, jumping into your body and wrapping her arms and legs around you tightly.

"Easy, Sophie! I'm not a toy!" you snicker, setting her down on the floor.

She bounces around you, tugging at your hand eagerly. "Guess what! Guess what! Guess what!"

"Slow down! What is it?"

"I have another loose tooth!" She points to her open mouth and, sure enough, one of them is loose, and becoming more so as she wiggles it with her tongue.

Mrs. Bennett walks in, placing a phone on the counter after what was most likely a business call. "Thanks for coming, (yourname). I'm sorry it's such short notice."

You laugh as Sophie starts to climb you like a jungle gym. "No problem, Mrs. Bennett. I always have fun babysitting for Sophie." And it's true. You loved taking care of the energetic 9-year-old, though tireless she may be.

Mrs. Bennett grabs her daughter and sets her on the ground. "Now," she says, pointing her finger sternly, "you be a good girl for (your name). Listen to her and do what she says. And don't climb all over her."

Sophie giggles. "Yes, Mom."

Mrs. Bennett bends down and gives her a gentle hug. "I'll be back around 9:00. Sophie's bedtime is 8:30. There's mac n' cheese in the cabinet. My number's on the fridge."

"Don't worry, Mrs. Bennett, I've done this before."

She gives you a tender smile then pauses, furrowing her brows and looking around. "Where's Jamie?"

"Still getting that ridiculous gel out of his hair," you smirk.

She frowns. "I'm going to miss him. Could you say 'Hi' to Pippa for me?"

You nod and hand her her purse, full of who knows what. "Sure thing."

"Bye Sophie." She leans down and kisses her daughter's forehead. Putting her hand beside her mouth, she yells, "Bye, Jamie!" down the hall. She grabs her keys from the kitchen counter and pats herself down, going through her mental checklist. You catch a few words muttered under her breath, including "deodorant" and "sticky notes".

"Thanks again, (your name)!" she shouts, shutting the door and getting into her car.

Almost instantly, Sophie jumps back onto you, climbing up your back and locking her arms underneath your chin.

"Sophie!" you choke.

"I want a piggyback ride!"

"But you're getting too big for-"

"Piggyback ride!"

"Ugh," you sigh, getting a firm grip on her legs and jogging around the sofa. Her laughter fills your ears and her body pounds against your back with every step.

"Faster!" she cries. Obediently, you pick up the pace, swerving around the coffee table and down the hall. Suddenly, the bathroom door swings wide open. You halt, the rough wood scraping the tip of your nose as Sophie clings to you for dear life. Jamie strolls out of the bathroom, leisurely drying his hair with a towel. When his eyes spot the two of you, he raises an eyebrow and pulls the towel off his head.

"What's up?"

You nearly drop Sophie in an attempt to slap him. Playfully, of course, but a genuine, strong slap.

"What's up?!" you cry. "You almost pounded my nose into my face; that's what's up!"

Jamie rubs his arm, now sporting a small red mark. "Geez, sorry. I didn't know you were there."

You're about to scold him more when you hear a knock at the door.

"Pippa," Jamie smiles, throwing his towel on the floor.

You put Sophie down and give him an incredulous look. "You made her come here on her own?!"

"She didn't want to be picked up, I swear!" He holds up his hands in defense. "She said she was fine with coming over. I'm going to take her home after the movie."

Shaking your head, you let him through to the door. you lean down and whisper to Sophie to get the camera. Her green eyes glimmer with mischief as she runs off and you hide behind the nearest wall.

Jamie opens the door and greets Pippa with a smile. "Hey."

"Hi, Jamie," she grins, dropping her skateboard on the porch and walking in. She's wearing a simple purple shirt and some jeans, which are frayed at the ends. She has her usual white cap covering the top of her short, auburn hair. You can't help but smile to yourself as you think of how little either of them have changed since the day you met them. Jamie is still his same, cheerful self, with his brown eyes and matching hair, still slightly wet. And Pippa is still as much of a tomboy as anyone. And forget becoming more mature. If anything, every single one of your maturity levels had dropped significantly from the beginning of junior high onward. Oh, the pranks you played...

Your reminiscing is interrupted by a little 9-year-old tugging at your sleeve. You smirk and take the camera, aiming it from behind the wall like a sniper, ready for the kill, or in this case, the perfect capture.

"Are you nervous, Jamie? You're looking a little sweaty..." states Pippa, tousling the top of his hair.

"I just washed my hair," he says, rubbing his slightly sweaty palms on his jeans and scratching his head. "So, you ready to get go-"

He is interrupted by a small click and a bright flash, followed by loud laughter.

"(your name)!"

You fall to the ground, cracking up and holding your stomach. Sophie leans against the wall to support her snickering. Jamie's face turns bright red as he storms over, leaving Pippa at the door.

"What are you doing?!" he snaps.

You bring yourself to your feet and, after catching your breath, you reply smugly, "Making memories."

Jamie sighs. "Look, I'm nervous enough already. I don't need to add humiliation on top of that."

"I'm sorry. I just thought your mom would like some pictures."

"It's fine. Just give me some warning next time. She probably thinks I'm a dork now."

"Don't worry, Jamie. Everyone already knows you're a dork," you smirk, walking out to greet Pippa yourself. Jamie shakes his rosy face and walks back to his date, Sophie trailing behind.

"Can I get one posed picture for Mrs. Bennett?" you ask.

Pippa chuckles. "Of course." Jamie stands beside her, wrapping his hand around her waist cautiously. They smile, both blushing to some degree as the camera clicks.

"Got it!"

"Great!" says Jamie. "Well, we'd better get going. Don't want to miss our movie."

Pippa nods. "We'll see you guys later!"

You and Sophie wave goodbye as they close the door behind them and begin walking down the street to the main portion of Burgess. You smile, watching them from the window until they are out of sight.

Sophie pokes your arm impatiently while you stand by the framework. "I'm hungry, (your name). Can we have dinner?"

"Sure, Soph. What do you want?"

"Pizza!"

"We had pizza the last time I came over!" you chuckle.

"I want it again, though."

"Don't you want the mac n' cheese your mom left for us?"

"No, I want pizza."

You smile softly and place the camera on a table. "Alright. Pizza it is."

After the two of you finish eating, you wash the dishes and ask Sophie if she has any homework.

"Nope," she replies, avoiding eye contact.

"Really?" You walk over to her backpack and start unzipping it slowly. "Then I guess I won't find any papers in here that need to be finished..."

Sophie watches you, biting her lip as the zipper starts to reveal the contents of her bag. "Okay, I do have homework!"

You sneer. "Thought so."

"But can we play a game first?"

"Uh-uh. I told your mom we'd get it done."

Her lip starts to quiver and her glossy emerald eyes stare at you pitifully. "Pwetty pwease, (your name)? I pwomise I'll get it done when we're done."

"It's not going to work, Sophie."

She kneels on the ground and holds her hands up to you, tears forming in her eyes.

_That darn girl is going to make a great con artist one day,_ you think.

"Fine. One small game but that's it."

"Yay!" she squeals, jumping up and hugging you with no trace of tears to be seen. "Close your eyes and count to 50!"

"What? Why?"

"We're gonna play hide and seek!" she shouts as she runs down the hall and to the staircase in search of a spot to hide.

You chuckle to yourself and put your hands over your eyes, counting slowly. "1...2...3...4...5..." You lift a finger and take a peek, just like you used to as a child. "6...7...8...9...10...15..."

"Hey!" Sophie shouts from her hiding spot. "No cheating!"

"Sorry!" you laugh, continuing to count correctly. As you get closer to finishing, your hands find their way off your eyes. "57...58...59...60! Ready or not, here I come!"

You creep up the stairs and into Sophie's room. "I know you're in here, Soph..." You slowly lift the lid of the toy chest, finding, surprisingly, just toys. A couple of giggles catch your ear, coming from behind. Turning around, you notice a small, frizzy, blonde ponytail sticking out from under the bed. You tiptoe to it and slide yourself on top, holding your breath as you shift your weight and pray that the frame doesn't creak. You reach down and slowly grab the pink polka-dotted comforter as if you were a child checking for a monster under the bed, though this time, it was the child who had the intention of scaring. Suddenly, your hand jerks back the blanket. "Gotcha!"

Sophie screams and giggles loudly, nearly exploding your eardrums. "Your turn!"

"Okay, but after this round, you have to do your homework," you say, holding your ear.

She nods and stands in a corner with her eyes closed. "1...2...3..."

Carefully, you sneak out of her room and down the hallway in search of the perfect hiding spot. In the curtains? No, too obvious. Under the bathroom sink? Too cramped. You hear Sophie counting into the 30's. Desperately, you open the nearest door and shut it without a sound. You turn around to find a piece of furniture to conceal yourself behind when you realize something. Space-themed bed sheets, encyclopedias of legendary creatures, tiny action figures on the shelves - you are in Jamie's room.

To be fair, Jamie never said his room was off limits. He never said they were within limits, though. _Maybe I should find somewhere else to hide._ Just when you reach for the doorknob, who hear Sophie yell, "Ready or not, here I come!"

_Shoot._

You step over scattered comic books and t-shirts, most of which are stained and smelly, and locate a path to the closet. You shut yourself in just as Sophie's laughter comes by the room.

The dark closet smells like moldy pizza and cologne. You feel something soft and warm under your foot. Holding in your cries of disgust, you re-position yourself only to trip over a mountain of sweatshirts and baseball caps and land on something stiff and board-like. Your uncertain hand reaches down and feels a row of thin, wiry spirals. A journal. _Jamie has a journal?_ You can't help but put on a smug expression as you pull it out from underneath you.

_What would Jamie be keeping a journal for? Is there something I don't know about?_ You turn the notebook in your hands after finding a sliver of light from a crack in the door. The cover seems to be blue, but it might be black. It's hard to tell.

Your fingers start to pull up the edge of the cover, but something stops you. _Maybe I shouldn't look at it. Whatever's in it, it's got to be super personal. He would've told me if it wasn't._ You close the journal and lay it back on the floor, determining whether or not you should examine your foot to see what substance you stepped in.

_But what if it's something important? What if he's trying to hide something from me? Is there something embarrassing about me in it? Something bad?_ You snatch the journal without a second thought and put it in your lap.

_Come on, Jamie Bennett, what are you hid-_

"Found you!"


	6. Chapter 6

"Found you!" Sophie giggles, sticking her face between the closet door and the wall.

You toss the journal behind your shoulder with a jolt, praying she didn't see it.

"You weren't supposed to go in Jamie's room, (your name). That's cheating."

_Thank goodness._

"I know. I guess you win," you say, getting to your feet and leaving the closet - and the journal - behind you. You lift your foot to find out what residue was on it. Moldy cheeseburger. Terrific.

"Go downstairs and finish your homework, Sophie. I'll be down as soon as I get this gunk off my foot." She nods and bounds down the steps, humming some light, girly tune.

You make your way to the staircase, balancing on the heel of your right foot. Taking it one step at a time, you hobble downward, the soggy condiments slowly peeling off your skin. _Three more steps to go,_ you tell yourself. _Two more. You're almost th-_

Right on cue, the family's slim greyhound skitters around the corner and onto the last step, tongue hanging in a starving pant. Her olive eyes squint at your foot and its rotten coating hungrily.

What luck.

"Down, Abby," you command, motioning with your hands. She takes no notice, eyes fixated on your ketchup-covered toes. You sway your foot back and forth. Sure enough, she follows, her wet nose sniffing instinctively.

There is no way you're getting past this dog.

Unless...

Careful not to get any of the burger on your hands, you hold your foot up and find a rotting pickle stuck to it. You pinch what's left of the putrid, green vegetable between your fingers, heaving at it's fuzzy texture, and toss it across the room. Abby rushes to where it lands. Knowing that dogs eat garbage all the time, you are content with leaving her for the bathroom.

You sit yourself down on the toilet lid with a damp rag in one hand and your contaminated foot in the other. The pad of your foot is painted with chunks of green beef stick to the skin with crusty relish glue and pieces of hairy, chopped onions. An odor of foul cheddar and pungent mustard hits your nose like an avalanche. It takes all you have to hold back your gag reflex and wipe away all traces of the decaying cheeseburger.

When all the grime - and at least 3 layers of skin - is removed, you meander back to the kitchen, where Sophie is sitting. Her homework is out on the table, but her mind is more focused on doodling around the edges.

"Sophie," you criticize, "I told you to get your homework done."

"I did," she explains, holding up her paper. "See? All the questions are done."

You shake your head, chuckling to yourself. "Okay. Just get your pj's on and brush your teeth. I'll be back to tuck you in after I check your work."

She skips down the hallway, her unkempt ponytail bouncing behind her. You smirk to yourself, admiring how lively and carefree she is. What you would do to be a child again...

The paper is filled with about 20 multiplication questions. Sophie's answers are scribbled under each problem in hard graphite. You go through each one, putting a star by the few she missed. After checking the last "this number times 3 is..." question, your eyes browse over her doodles.

They can hardly be called doodles. Though quickly sketched, each little drawing has elaborate detail. The dark lines flow across the page effortlessly. Above her scrawled name is a small self portrait, complete with scattered strands of hair flying every which way. In the middle of the page is an older girl with (hair length) hair and a (nose shape) nose. No doubt it's you. Several other illustrations are strewn on the paper. A set of butterfly wings with long spirals and swirls. The moon surrounded by feathery clouds. A pretty rose with delicate petals.

There is one drawing that catches your attention. It is on the bottom left corner. It is a picture of a large rabbit. His face is very human-like, but it's definitely a rabbit. His fur has tulip-shaped patterns, contrasted by dark and light pencil strokes. On his arms, there are bejeweled bracers. A holster with some egg-shaped objects clings to his shoulder, a pair of boomerangs in his paws. _This is no ordinary bunny..._

Your thoughts are interrupted by a strong bark and a distinct thud down the hall. You scramble out of your seat and find Sophie collapsed outside her room, Abby perched beside her with her nose in the air.

"Sophie!" you cry, kneeling next to her.

She says nothing as she gets to her feet, her baggy, green pajama pants caught under her heels. There's a trace of a tear in her emerald eyes, which are staring down at her cupped hands. The tear quickly disappears as her palms reveal a tiny tooth, trimmed with a couple drops of blood. Immediately, her tongue goes to the empty space in her wide smile.

"I lost a tooth!" she squeals, jumping up and down and waving it in the air. "I lost a tooth!"

"That's great, Sophie!"

"Can I put it under my pillow?"

You laugh softly. "I guess so. Are you all ready for bed?"

"Yup!" she replies, skittering into her room and hopping onto her bed.

A trio of carnation pink butterflies hover over her headboard. You maneuver your way past an army of Barbie dolls, sidestepping the castle's pointy spires. Sophie bounces on her mattress, her greyhound duplicating her actions.

"Okay, okay. Settle down," you smile. "You don't want to scare the Tooth Fairy away."

Sophie stops, sitting up properly. "Do you believe in the Tooth Fairy, (your name)?"

_Of course not,_ you think to yourself. _I stopped believing years ago. There's no such thing as a little sprite that trades cuspids for cash. It's just the parents._

_But Sophie can't know that,_ you realize, looking at the expectant child.

"Of course I believe in her, Soph."

"Really?"

_Darn this kid._

"Really. But she won't come unless you go to sleep."

She groans facetiously and places the pearly tooth under her cream-colored pillow. You pull the covers up to her chin, the soft fabric decorated with daffodils. "Goodnight, Sophie." You tuck her blonde bangs behind her ear and kiss her forehead, handing her her favorite stuffed bunny - complete with mud stains and a chewed up ear by you-know-who - and turning on her small, square nightlight before leaving the room. Abby stays with her owner, curled up at the foot of the bed.

The clock in the hallway states that it is 8:15. Sophie is in bed with 15 minutes to spare. Take that, parental schedule!

That means you have 15 extra minutes to yourself.

15 extra minutes to do whatever you please.

_To find out what's in Jamie's journal!_


	7. Chapter 7

You sit on the sofa in the Bennetts' living room, back against the arm of the couch. Jamie's journal rests on your stomach and leans onto your angled legs. The cover is simple - royal blue with his name scribbled on the top in black marker. It is impossible to tell whether it's recent or from an earlier time. Jamie's handwriting seems to get worse with age, unfortunately.

Your hesitant fingers idle at the top corner of the journal as a pang of uneasiness finds its way back into your mind. _Maybe I shouldn't do this... There has to be at least 27 friendship rules I'm breaking by doing this. I shouldn't be invading his personal thoughts._ Slowly, your fingers begin to recede.

_But I just went to all that trouble to get it again,_ your brain refutes. _I risked stepping on another rotten piece of food. It would be ridiculous not to read it now!_

Just as you start reaching for the notebook again, the "angel" of your logic speaks up. _But what if Jamie walks in and sees me reading it? He would never trust me with anything again. I don't want to betray him, do I?_

Read the book, your mind coaxes.

_No, don't read it._

Read it!

Don't read it!

READ IT!

"UUGH!" shout and fling the notebook a good 10 feet to your side. It hits the ground with a _whack,_ flopping near the dormant fireplace, its pages exposed in a papery flutter. The book is open, revealing black chicken scratch and some sort of sketch behind a folded corner. You urge yourself not to look at it; to simply walk over, pick up the journal, and put it back in Jamie's room like nothing happened. And you do just that...

Until your wandering eyes catch sight of a pair of rabbit ears poking out from under the folded edge.

A pair attached to a certain human like rabbit.

You pull back the edge of the paper and reveal a large sketch of a bunny standing on his hind legs. The oval gems in his bracers and floral-patterned fur betray his stern demeanor and battle-ready stance. _Odd,_ you think, tracing your fingers over the crisp lines of a midair boomerang. _This looks just like the drawing Sophie made earlier..._

The top of the page is titled, "E. Aster Bunnymund: a.k.a. The Easter Bunny".

_The Easter Bunny? Why in the world would Jamie write a journal about the Easter Bunny? Is that his big secret?_

You sit yourself down on the floor, crossing your legs like a kindergartener.

You flip through the pages madly, skimming over many childhood legends and stories. A rogue bandit with a jolly smile. A fairy with fluorescent feathers. A plump, sleepy man.

Your agile fingers pause at one of the later chapters: "Jackson Overland Frost". On the paper stands a youthful teen with a cocky smirk and wild hair. He leans on a cane of sorts, his bare feet crossed over one another. _I don't ever remember you being some big childhood figure,_ you contemplate.

A scratchy jingling at the door brings you back to reality. Quickly, you scramble to your feet and stow the journal behind a pillow just as Mrs. Bennett enters the house.

"Hi, Mrs. Bennett," you say. She doesn't even look your way, rather tossing her keys onto the counter and plopping herself onto the couch.

"Mrs. Bennett?"

Her only response is a muffled groan as she rolls onto her side, covering her bloodshot eyes with her coat sleeve. Her large purse topples to the floor heavily. She begins to snore softly.

You approach with caution and whisper her name again. Nothing but louder snores. You tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear and place the back of your hand on her forehead, heat radiating onto your skin. She coughs suddenly and you flinch, pulling your hand back. _Must have been some meeting._

Seizing your opportunity, after writing a note to Jamie explaining his mother's sickness, you snatch the journal from the pillow and dash up to put it back where it belongs.

You crack open Sophie's door slightly before heading back downstairs. Her gentle smile is highlighted by her tiny nightlight. Her chest rises and falls calmly, Abby still at her feet. You smile to yourself as you close the door once more. Before you take another step, you hesitate. You could swear you hear something ruffling in the distance. A muted fluttering, maybe? You shake away the thought and move on. It's just in your head. Nothing could really be flying around in Sophie's room...

Could it?


End file.
